


Indelible Marks

by Augenblickgotter



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Aziraphale is Patient (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Name is Ezra (Good Omens), Breakups, Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Flirting (Good Omens), Crowley is Whipped (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley, M/M, POV Crowley (Good Omens), Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Scared Crowley (Good Omens), Slow Burn, Tattoo, aumens fest, aziraphale is a tattoo artist, finding your wings, tattoo parlour, warlock is a pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24569872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Augenblickgotter/pseuds/Augenblickgotter
Summary: Anthony Crowley is a successful antique dealer moving from a messy breakup.Feeling the urge to prove to himself it's over and he can do something he's held off for years, he goes for his first tattoo. The fear of trying to move on is topped by a crippling fear of pain.Yet he discovers that everyone and everything leaves indelible marks, and it's up to each of us the ones we chose to take, cover, or bare and where to find our wings.Part of the awesome AUmens fest, my prompt was TATTOO!And a huge thanks to ineffable alien, slow_burn_sally, and especially astral_gravy for some technical help.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 39
Kudos: 146
Collections: Good AUmens AU Fest, Good Omens Human AUs, Week 22: Tattoo





	Indelible Marks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [astral_gravy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astral_gravy/gifts).



The phone that was sitting on the car's dash-mount cut into Anthony Crowley's thinking. 

  


"Arriving at destination, on the left," the directions robotically announced. 

  


He slowed the car as much as possible and was surprised to see the oversize block print words in plain sight above the door. 

  


**FELL'S TATTOO CORNER.**

  


" _ Hmmm, not exactly the place I'd expect a parlor _ ," he mused.

_ "But, it's not lying; it is on a literal corner." _

  


The quaint businesses flanking either side leading to this corner shop didn't conjure up the idea of a location for a tattoo parlor, honestly; Small restaurants and specific knick-knack shops with an urban crowd streaming by. This shop had tall windows suitably obscured with multicolored tattoo designs and artworks.

  


_ "This..... looks more like the place for a curiosity shop," _ Crowley thought as he nimbly parked. He removed the phone from the dash to look at the time. 

  


_ "8:47...... appointment is at 9:00. Well, nothing like being the early one. " _

  


Crowley fussed with his phone a moment more, checking for messages or missed calls. 

None.

  


_ "Don't want to be too early. Might give the wrong impression." _

  


He flipped back up the online review page for this shop, reconfirming his choice for the third time that hour. He thumbed through the reviews. 

All five-star reviews. And so many of them.

It didn't matter the length or detail of the review; they all sang the same praise.

"Perfect tat! Best tat experience! Ezra is always the best! My T4tT0o iz teh B3ST 3V3R! Ezra was so patient and answered all my questions, go to no one else..."

He inhaled, and that fluttery feeling started seeping back up his spine.

" _ You could just call and say something came up,"  _ he quieted himself. " _ There's no shame in that. I mean...  _

_ No.." _

He swiped his phone blank to recheck the time. 

" _ You said it, you've promised for years. You aren't getting any younger. It's time.... oh christ, 3 minutes till 9:00!" _

His mind was still safe and entombed inside the glass and metal womb that was his car, but his arms and legs jumped to action and moved him outward. The street noise and urban warmth filled his ears and senses as he approached the shop, giving him a feeling of sanctuary. 

_ "Nice place, nothing nasty and questionable around here." _

He jaunted up the stairs, holding out his phone to look like he was hypnotized with directions, yet the screen was blank. He paused at the antique double doors for one last breath.

_ "Come on, you," _ he thought as he grabbed one of the handles. " _ Come on, come on, come on..." _

He heard the jingle bells clatter on the door as he entered. His eyes started readjusting his sight for the darker interior frantically. However, he didn't want to remove his sunglasses.

Not yet, he needed that wall still.

Crowley bobbed forward another step and heard a youthful voice plaintively arguing over at the main counter as he scanned around. 

"  _ Oddly cozy for a tattoo parlor _ ." 

Everything was flawlessly clean and had a professional atmosphere as to be expected. But there was something more rounded and friendly to the interior. Instead of cold metal and sterile-looking tiles, there were older wooden counters and seats trimmed with burnished aged metals and well-worn leather. Instead of a modern architect, everything was decidedly antiqued. All the expected displays and equipment were there, as far as Crowley could tell. He had a pang of fear as he churned in his head what he might get into.

_ "So.... is this shop, so old fashioned it will be using outdated tools? I hope not. I mean, they probably hurt more. Lots more. " _

"Annnnd," the young boy's voice sliced into Crowley's inner monologue, "I totally have been working on my own design that is nobody else's!"

Crowley turned his head to the main counter to see the back of a lanky kid seated at the front desk, pulling up a piece of paper with youthful earnesty to the person sitting on the other side. 

The other person was hard to see in full around the youth, but the first thing Crowley saw was white hair. That wasn't really a shock; most tattoo artists he had seen had a body of tats, piercings, and shocking hair colors, proudly proclaiming their duty to all alterations, big and small.

"Well, Mr. Dowling," he heard White Hair announcing brightly, "That IS an incredible idea for a tattoo...."

"I drew it myself!" the Dowling kid proudly affirmed. 

Crowley craned over with a small smirk to try and spy.

  


"Most impressive!" the other voice continued, "But I am afraid that you need your parents' permission...."

"My parents don't matter!" the kid emphatically hammered, "But Nanny said I could have one!"

Crowley was almost getting pulled into the hilarity of the conversation when a voice beside him caught him off guard.

"Help you, zir?" 

He turned to see a shorter person covered with their own sea of tats and several piercings, as well as a jet black burst of spiky hair with a few strategic red tips. Mr. Dowling and the man at the counter disputed as Crowley opened his mouth.

"Oh, uhm, yeah, I have an appointment with an... Ezra? " 

"Hmmmz, you Crowley?" the artisan asked without a blink.

"Uh, yes, I am..."

They turned to the counter and barked over the juvenile protesting from Mr. Dowling.

"Hey, Ezz! Your 9 iz here!"

_ "Oh, that must the thee Ezra," _ Crowley thought.

The man behind the counter held up a finger with the clear message of "One moment!" as he was finishing his argument with a cross looking Mr. Dowling.

"And furthermore, Warlock," Ezra concluded heavily in a commanding voice, "I think you will find you are too young by at least 7 years. That is all for now, AGAIN, Mr. Dowling. I have other clients I've promised my time to. Good day."

Ezra, surprisingly boyish featured, looked up at Crowley and gave a wink that said,  _ 'No worries, you are next. Let me get rid of this child." _

Crowley was actually more bemused, thinking this kid must come in daily.

Warlock sighed loudly, hopped down from the stool, and began pacing away while clutching his artwork only to spin around and point a threatening finger. 

"I WILL be back!" he assured coldly, glaring from under his lanky black hair that was curtaining in front of his eyes. 

"I know, " Ezra fearlessly teased back, "You always do. Beez, please show young mister Warlock to the door."

The person who had been speaking to Crowley moved towards the petulant Warlock. 

"Come on, Warlock. You know za drill," they chided as they ushered him out.

"I SHALL RETURN!" Warlock cried as the door banged behind him.

Crowley was watching with amusement and turned back to Ezra.

Ezra was sitting behind the desk but was leaning against it, his rounded chin in his hands. He closed his eyes with the most bemused smirk. "Same time tomorrow. As always," he muttered. 

Crowley stepped towards the counter as Ezra straightened himself.

" _ He.... looks more like a.... barber... or a pastry chef,  _ " Crowley pondered.

Ezra was pleasantly cherubic and didn't have the untamed edge that most alternative artisans seem to push. Sure, Crowley could see tattoos creeping up from behind his collar, the usual fare splayed on his forearms laid bare by his rolled-up sleeves and even a few standard piercings. But his features were all round and unthreatening, and Crowley couldn't gauge if it made things better or worse. 

Ezra gave the most welcoming genial grin as he held out a hand. 

"Hello! You must be Mr. Crowley."

Crowley paced forward and gave his hand a shake. 

"Yes, that tis I," he volunteered professionally. 

"Wonderful!" Ezra continued as he pulled away and picked up a clipboard. "You were here for.... a consultation?"

"Yes, that is right."

Ezra put down the clipboard, crossed his arms over his apron, and leaned back a little, making full-face contact. His face was invitingly inoffensive like he'd gladly share your secrets and remember the names of all your kids if you told him. There wasn't a sharp angle to be found in his features or his character. Crowley could tell he would listen to anything with patience and still be pleasant. 

"Well then, Anthony, " he amicably extended, "What is it you were looking for? Is this your first tattoo? Please do sit down."

He gestured with his eyes to the bar stool Warlock had been seated on before.

Crowley wanted to stand with his hands in his pockets, pacing but decided to try and stretch time by fussing his way onto the stool. Ezra watched with unjudging blue eyes.

"Uh, well, yes," Crowley began, leaning on the counter, looking around. Ezra gave him his full attention, not changing his gaze.

"I decided it was finally time, and uh," Crowley had his arms on the counter and laced his fingers together, still looking sideways. "And, uhm, was hoping to have it done as soon as possible."

Ezra was still cross-armed, unblinking, and gave a small shake of his head that asked for more. 

"Well, fantastic, Anthony..."

"Oh, please," Crowley cut in, "Just Crowley, I prefer that."

Ezra gave another approving movement. "Very well! Crowley, what did you have in mind?"

Crowley pulled out his phone and quickly flipped up some images he had saved and scooted it towards Ezra.

Ezra leaned over and squinted at the screen. 

"Hmmm, very nice," he commented. 

"Yeah," Crowley said, feeling a little more confident. "I like it myself."

"Well, you have a general idea, I see," Ezra acknowledged. "So, where are you thinking fo getting said tattoo?"

Crowley remained cool. 

"On my face."

Ezra didn't act surprised, much to Crowley's mild dismay.

“Well, you know it’s usually our policy to ask with tattoos above the collar, among other things.”

“What, you don’t do ‘em?”

“Actually, we do, BUT,” Ezra cautioned, “Some other shops don’t and it’s very much not something we do for a first time tattoo if that can be helped.”

“Yeah, uhm,” Crowley cut in, “I’m not a kid and know the implications, thanks.”

“As long as you fully understand…”

“I said I did.”

Ezra gave a small shrug.

"Such a life commitment, but to every person his own choices."

"Well, no use trying to scare me out of it," Crowley swaggered. "I've thought long and hard about it..."

"I'd never try and scare anyone from their choices," Ezra encouraged, "But-" He leaned up and stared fully at Crowley, still pretending to flip through more images. 

"-I'm not one to intrude on your personal life, but if..."

He paused delicately. 

"Are you going through a breakup or an emotional time?"

Crowley was holding up his phone and turned to face Ezra through his sunglasses. Ezra looked comfortably empathetic. 

_ "Oh Christ, what are you, my mother?"  _ he scoffed internally, waiting for a beat too long.

"No, of course not," Crowley derided like that was the stupidest question he could have asked. 

"Are you happy at this point in your life or looking for a lift? Like, perhaps a midlife crisis?"

Crowley's mind went so blank he heard the emptiness creaking like a door hinge inside. 

_ "What..... the... he's digging up my current skeletons?" _

"Do I look like a midlife crisis to you?" he disapproved.

Ezra raised his brows and shook his head. "Of course not. I just professionally have to challenge a first time tattoo like this on the....."

Crowley lowered the phone and exaggeratedly leaned in with an artificial grin. 

"Okay, doc," he sneered, "Since you are absolutely wrapped up in fossicking up my deepest emotional traumas, how is this; maybe I AM moving on from someone or something and would verrry much like to have this as a new chapter in my life. How's that?" He had placed his phone down and laced his hands together in front of himself. "Enough, or do you want to check my pulse and temperature while you are at it? Hmmm?"

Ezra was still unflipped, which peeved Crowley more. 

"Of course not. Well, then," Ezra allowed, "I only want to be sure your heart is in the correct place and properly ..."

"Doc," Crowley jested, going back to his phone, "The heart is just fine. Pit-a-patta like it usually does, thanks for checking."

"I see," Ezra said. 

_ "He's staring at the side of my face, doubting me. Jeez, Now I doubt myself. C'mon...."  _

Crowley remained silent, letting the emptiness be his firm answer until he muttered, "So, I pay, you give me a quick and painless little piece, and life goes on."

"I will also add, if I may," Ezra continued helpfully, "-the face is a rather sensitive place to begin."

Crowley twitched but pretended to be enamored with his phone. 

"Yeah, I can take it."

Ezra blinked hard and turned his head.

"No doubt, but I would suggest a shoulder blade or leg...."

"Sure you would," Crowley bluffed as he pocketed his phone, "More work. I know what I want and ask only that."

"Do you?" Ezra inquired, leveling a steely gaze. 

Crowley was caught off guard.  _ "What does he think he's suggesting? Don't play reverse psycho on me.." _

Crowley folded his arms back and finally turned his full body and attention to Ezra. 

"Yeah, I do."

Ezra uncrossed his own arms and pulled up the clipboard.

  


"Very well, then! Please sign the waiver and give the information. And please give your ID to Beez for her to run it.”

Crowley was pulling his license out of his wallet as Beez sauntered up.

“Yeah, I promise it’s not a fake ID if that’s the worry.”

“Standard prozzedure,” Beez drawled.

Crowley filled his next few moments filling out the forms, scoffing internally at the questions.

_ “Not drunk? Sound mind and body? Underage? Yeah right.” _

He finished it and returned it to Ezra as Beez came back, slapping his card unceremoniously on the counter in front of him

  


Ezra glanced over the forms and filled out some other parts and he resumed talking. “

I can book you tomorrow at 9:00 in the morning. Please do read through the preparation instructions on our webpage. You need to have the best experience and recovery..."

"Recovery," Crowley snorted. "I'm not getting a limb amputated."

Ezra was still focused on his writing but gave a quick acknowledging pout of his lips.

"Of course not, but it's so different for everyone. Pain and reactions. Too many over-eager kids don't follow up with proper care, and that leads to potential infections, not to mention a bad piece of art ruined for life. That would be rough on a place like your face, wouldn't it?"

Crowley turned his head and tried to focus. 

_ "Come on, come on.... don't run now." _

  


"Uh, listen, Mr. Fell," he gnarled.

"Please," Ezra corrected with a smile, "Call me Ezra."

"Fine. Ezra, listen..."

Crowley pulled up his phone and thumbed through some images.

"I HAD been thinking of getting some arm work done with these images."

He re-held out the phone, and Ezra leaned back in to see.

"More good choices," he murmured, looking at the pictures.

Crowley preened a little and stopped on one.

"Yeah, how about this one?"

He flipped to an image of a black and crimson serpent wound around a glistening red apple. 

Ezra gave an unblinking but accepting nod. "And you want it where may I ask?"

"Uh, well," Crowley fumbled around. "Where ever, yanno... it looks the best."

Ezra leaned up, looking accommodating. 

"Well, I'd suggest your shoulder or upper arm area. If you wanted it to be slightly discreet, you could still cover it. But it also works as a place you can display it fairly easily with the right cut of the shirt. The whole layout of the art would fit just right in that-" he reached out and tapped Crowley's upper arm right below the point of the shoulder point, "-area. And, it's a lower pain field if I stay up here well above the elbow....."

"Perfect!" Crowley cut in. "I want that then. Left arm, tomorrow."

Ezra crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Well then, so it is. Please send me the image, if you would? "

"Sure, sending it now," Crowley absently said, fiddling with his phone.

"Now, Mr. Anthony Crowley," Ezra said, folding his hands, "I do take it that you've read up on the preparation and care?"

"Yeah, Yeah," Crowley said, pretending to be busy.

  


"Good, the first time can be a little.... uncomfortable. "

  


Crowley swallowed but still acted occupied. 

"Yeah, I'm an adult. I can handle it. I mean, as long as you numb me out, I'll be great."

  


Ezra knotted his brows and almost turned his head sideways.

" 'Numb you out'?...you mean, totally anesthetize you? " he probed, sounding baffled. 

  


Crowley turned from his phone. "Oh, no, not like that," he helpfully corrected. "Like, don't you rub something like lidocaine all over my arm and give me the tattoo? "

  


Ezra was still looking at him sideways but condescendingly raised his brows. 

He shook his head in a very bemused manner. 

"No, that's not what we do..."

Crowley opened his mouth. He inhaled and bared his teeth in a dry smile. 

"A  _ shot _ of lidocaine, then?" he guessed, with a little keening in his voice. _ "Ugh, a shot, I hate shots..." _

Aziraphale literally had his face sideways and was staring at him askew. His expression said it all;  _ "You haven't actually looked up anything about getting a tattoo and are afraid of the pain, maybe?" _

Crowley heard sirens in his head as he searched for a solution.

"Well, if you don't, then I should try another shop..."

Ezra still had a stunned expression on his face that was half not wanting to upset Crowley and half ready to start laughing at him.

"Uh, Crowley, no one does. "

Crowley turned and looked at Ezra, who leaned forward onto the desk and sighed. 

"Crowley, let me guess this," he offered, "You are afraid this is going to be painful."

Crowley tilted his head up more as he fumbled with the phone in his pocket to ground himself.

"Well, I'm not looking for pain," Crowley puffed, "If that's what you mean. I mean...." He suddenly looked around the shop, hoping no one was in earshot.

"Does it.... hurt?" he whispered between his clenched teeth.

Ezra twisted his mouth and lowered his voice respectfully.

"Honest answer, yes. Of course."

Crowley winced too obviously.

"Well, I can't lie," Ezra confessed personally almost at a whisper as if not to scare Crowley more, "You  _ are _ getting jabbed with needles. But, I assure you-" Ezra leaned up, "-if you pace yourself and truly want a tattoo, the pain is minor and only temporary."

Crowley bobbed a little, knowing he was gently being advised. 

"Yeah, fine, it won't kill me, I suppose."

  


Ezra beamed and pulled up the clipboard again. 

"Excellent! Sign these, and Beez will take the first deposit."

Crowley took the clipboard and started filling it out. He handed it back cooly as Ezra stood up and began kindly lecturing. 

"Beez will give you the pamphlet with advice. Whatever you do, don't stress; please get some sleep, don't drink in excess beforehand, don't skip a meal or anything, and please wear something comfortable, so I can easily get to your shoulder."

  


"Yeah, doc, will do. All that." Crowley snarked as he slowly stood up. "I'll even wear a bathing suit if that's what I have to do."

  


Ezra was walking around the counter, looking at the clipboard, and gave a vague shrug. "Whatever you are comfortable with, I'm not bothered."

_ "Ha, you are so cutesy, _ " Crowley smirked to himself.

Mr. Fell approached Crowley and held out a hand. "So, see you tomorrow." Crowley stopped twitching his body around, pretending to take in the shop surrounding to face Ezra in full.

He wasn't necessarily surprised Ezra was shorter than him, but as he approached in the apron, Crowley thought he looked less and less like a man who could wield a tattoo gun.  _ "Definitely a pastry chef with the apron. And girth. No, an old fashioned butcher. Friendly and wearing an apron... wait, butcher? Oh Christ now I am stuck with that image leaning over my shoulder." _

Crowley involuntarily shivered as Ezra held out a hand and gave a finishing smile. 

_ "He's so pleasant, I'm sure he doesn't want me to be scared of getting a tattoo.... but, I.... what if it really does hurt?" _

Crowley was ensnared by the spirals and fronds of tattoos creeping out from under Ezra's sleeves, though. He knew it would be rude to stare, but he felt calmer. _ "If a marshmallow like him is covered with tattoos, I can handle it." _

"Uh, yeah," Crowley said slowly raising a hand to meet him. "See you tomorrow." Their hands met and Crowley was surprised by how strong Ezra was.

_______________________________

Crowley slowly pulled the car up and parked.

8:44. 

He figured this time, though, it was worth going in early. Maybe there was more prep or talk. He showered, eaten a square meal, abstained totally from drinking (hard, but harder thinking of the consequences), and slept fitfully but enough. Then he showered again in the morning; he didn't want any sort of lingering bacteria to infect that tattoo.

Crowley eventually peeled his clammy hands off the steering wheel.

_ "Just a little pain. C'mon, just a little pain, it'll be worth it...." _

He pulled his body towards the door, grabbed the handle, and closed his eyes. _ "No turning back now." _

Crowley entered and heard Warlock's agitated voice. "I CAN count, and Nanny said this was enough money for my tattoo! Are you going to give it to me or not?!"

"Warlock," Ezra argued back with much drama, "It doesn't matter if it's twice the money needed for your tattoo. You need a legal guardian to be present, but that is a moot point as well, my boy. I would say you are certainly underage. Now, leave with your money and return when you are old enough for a tattoo, young man."

Warlock loudly hopped off the stool and stormed by Crowley, not even looking back. He halted dramatically as he reached the door. 

"I am bringing Nanny next time!" he threatened as he slammed the door.

Crowley smiled at the flippancy.

Ezra was at the counter, his face in his hands.

"I suppose I'll just have to endure him like this for another... 7 or 8 years," he muttered. "Anyhow," he brushed that aside as he looked back up, "Good morning, Crowley!"

"Afternoon!" Crowley returned, trying to sound nonchalant. "I mean, morning. Day. Hour. Whatever."

"No worries, it's your hour," Ezra said with a wink as he approached.

_ "Yeahh...." _

"Please follow Beez over to your booth for prep, and I shall be with you shortly.

  


Crowley followed the spikey black and red hair blob to the booth as Beez requested he take off his jacket and seat himself.

Crowley removed the jacket revealing his armless black undershirt. He seated and let the comfort of the cushioned seat assure him this was fine.

_ "Okay, okay, you are doing it."  _

Beez was donning gloves and moved through the steps of cleaning Crowley's shoulder off thoroughly. 

" _ Just... like.... the dentist or a check-up. No fuss. Just relax." _

Halfway through the process, Beez did a double-take at his face. 

"Uhh, you wanna take off thosez glazzez, zir?" She offered.

  


"Uuuh, No, please," Crowley answered, pretending to think about it.

They looked confused until Ezra's voice cut in from behind. "No need then, whatever keeps you relaxed."

  


"I hope you don't mind too much," Ezra inquired from behind Crowley, "If Beez assists, they are training currently."

Ezra gave an encouragingly protective smile at Beez who, in return, rolled their eyes sheepishly. 

"Uh, shoot, no," Crowley shrugged. "But they aren't... giving me the tat, are they?  _ What if she's an amateur and stabs extra hard?" _

Beez kept moving around, assisting with setting equipment. They looked more and more medieval by the moment to Crowley with all those sharp piercings and midnight hair tipped with blood red spikes...

"Oh no, not today," Ezra clarified, stepping close, snapping on black latex gloves. "That's my job." He gave a final ominous snap to the edge of his glove, and Crowley felt like bolting.

Ezra no longer looked like a butcher but a mad scientist to Crowley. Under his over-apron, the button-up shirt he wore bore a light tartan pattern and extremely short sleeves. This showed in full his arrangement of tattoos drowning his arms. Crowley tried not to stare, but it became clearer amid the spray of shapes and colors; he made out patterns.  _ "Stained glass windows? Hmmm, interesting idea for a tattoo. Lots of territories you can cover." _

__ He had donned small wire-rim glasses, which looked more like old fashioned spectacles.

"Beez?" he addressed, "Please get Mr. Crowley positioned over at the bench proper, please?"

Crowley felt feeble as he tried to find a comfortable way to position on the strange chair with multiple rest pads and cushions. Beez eventually guided him to lean back. Crowley glanced at the ominous gun on the stand. He turned and focused on the shop windows to a world outside.  _ "I'm far enough from the windows that if I scream, they can't hear me, correct?" _

__ Beez pulled a swivel chair up for Ezra, who seated and scooted closer. He asked a few more particulars, sketched a few points for sizing and reference on Crowley's arm, and asked a few final questions. Crowley gave brief, casual responses as he leaned back with his hands folded on his lap.

  


“Now, I do a blank test, normally,” Ezra said. 

“Blank test?” Crowley fretted.

“Just a simple line, somewhere discreet. We can do a spot on the arm here, where it’s more padded. Oh, that reminds me to tell you; the more padding you have on your body, less pain.

Less padded areas are thinner and will hurt more. And you being, well,” Ezra searched politely for the correct words.”-not being as padded as someone like myself!” He grinned helpfully, “It might hurt a little more.”

Crowley pulled himself for the small spiral his nerves went into and just grinned dryly.

  


"Well," Ezra asked as he took the gun from Beez, "Are you ready?"

"As ever," Crowley responded.

"I've said it before, and I will remind you to relax, but you'll jump the first time and for the first few minutes..."

Crowley snorted and simpered.

"Yeah, uh, I'm totally relaxed here, and you have to worry about.."

The gun hummed to life with a diabolical buzz.

Crowley snapped his eyes to it, holding his mouth open a little. 

Ezra looked impish, gripping the gun, leaning over Crowley. 

He reached his free hand out and carefully grabbed Crowley’s arm skin with his gloved fingertips, spreading it tight, as he moved in closer.

"Deep breath and relax, please."

Crowley closed his eyes and grit his teeth.

_ "Maybe I won't feel it it.... oh fucking lord! Clawing-raking-searing-hurting.....ngggggkkkkK!!!!" _

Crowley inhaled loudly and twitched.

Ezra was expecting this but didn't move his hand or cease the pressure of his body on Crowley.

"Sorry, it's going to be fairly prickly for a few minutes.."

"I can think of some better adjectives than prickly!" Crowley seethed between his teeth.

He glanced sideways as Ezra gave him an encouraging nod.

"C'mon," he pepped, "Buck up Crowley! Think of it as having your cherry popped..."

Crowley felt ambushed. "Eh heh, yeah, " he wheezed as Ezra moved back in with the gun. 

“Can you handle it?” Ezra probed. “Too much?”

“Hell no!” Crowley wheezed. “Just fine, I can take it. A little surprising, that’s all.”

Ezra inhaled.

“Very well, I shall start in earnest.”

Crowley went totally rigid and tried to send his mind to another realm but was making himself sick with tension. 

_ "Oh god, no, I can't throw up off this, I'll never live it down... ! Okay, okay, just... ack.... get used to.... unnkkk.... the feeling and unnnnhhhk,".  _

Crowley wasn't even looking at the process, trying to drown out the buzzing, the pressing, the stretching, and the discomfort. Ezra continued to hold onto the top of his shoulder with his other hand, which gave Crowley a slightly anchored feeling he didn't mind. 

After a few moments of trying to block everything, Crowley felt inundated enough with the ebb and flow of buzzing, pressing, and stabbing to try and pull from his trance.

Opening his eyes, he turned to see the top of Ezra's platinum head bent forward. He also saw the glistening angles of that infernal gun. A black latex hand firmly holding his shoulder. 

"How's it going, doc?" Crowley rustled between his teeth.

"Just fine!" Ezra calmly informed as he dabbed for more ink and resumed. "Your body has probably given you the adrenaline rush, and you'll find your pace. Are you holding up fine?"

  


"Certainly," Crowley replied. "Could do this all day."

  


Ezra glanced up over his spectacles and gave a quick affirming scrunch of his face. 

"That's the spirit! Just hang in there, and I'll have you blooming in no time."

Crowley thought it would be rude to pull up his phone and browse it. There was another human laboring right there on him, trying to keep it all pleasant. He owed him at least part of his attention, and perhaps the conversation would be distracting. Crowley glanced back at Ezra still wrapped up in his work. Looking down at his well-tattooed burly arms, he was surprised at the white hair covering it. 

_ "Oh, so you don't dye your hair... it's really... white? Wow, maybe you are aging prematurely or something..." _

"Uhm, " Crowley gasped, trying to grasp for conversation. "Do you, uh... nggk, get a lot of strange requests? "

"Oh, every single request is unique, of course," Ezra replied, not looking up. "The most unique are clients who work months on designs with me. I help them realize it the best I can. Very rewarding work."

"I can imagine," Crowley responded.

"May I ask, Crowley," Ezra began, "What do you do for a living?"

"Antiques," Crowley replied speedily, suddenly wanting to talk about something familiar. "I deal with exceptional high-end antiques for a select group of clients and galleries."

  


"Sounds very interesting, " Ezra complimented.

  


“ _ Well, as interesting as very old expensive furniture can be, _ ” Crowley thought to himself.

He then chose to keep the conversation upbeat.

  


"Yeah, it's challenging and keeps me going places," Crowley added. 

  


"I can imagine."

  


There was a brief pause in the talk, and Crowley was desperately trying to think of something to ask or say. 

"Well, I am sure your work is more interesting," he offered.

"Hmmm, " Ezra pondered, "I would say yours sounds more diverse and interesting honestly. I don't get to go places with this. I mean," he suddenly stopped himself and gave a blink as he clarified. "-other places. "

Crowley was adjusting to the ebb and flow, the dabbing and pressing.

Beez was watching mostly, and Ezra would give some quiet advice to them.

  


"I have to rest my hands a moment, " Ezra announced as he set the gun back in a rack. He shook his hands and looked at Crowley. "Are you holding up well?"

  


"Fine," Crowley admitted, enjoying the lull. "Are we almost done?"

  


"Mmmm, about halfway. It's small enough. I think I can finish it today. "

  


Crowley wished it was further along but accepted the answer. 

"Oh," Ezra remembered and reached down in an apron pocket. He pulled out a lollipop and held it out to Crowley. 

Crowley scoffed and wanted to laugh. 

"Geee, doc, I know I'm a brave kid here, but don't I get that when I finish?"

Ezra laughed, still holding out the bright red candy.

"You're marvelously brave. But it's for the sugar."

  


"Huuuh?" Crowley was confused. "Sugar?"

  


"Yes, gives your system a boost you probably don't know you need."

  


"Oh, uh, thanks..."

Crowley reached out and took it as Beez approached with a thermos and some paper cups. 

"Thanks, dear," Ezra said as she poured out some tea for Ezra.

  


"Uhhh," Crowley worried as he fussed with the wrapper. "Is... that ... good for your nerves? Will your hands get shaky? What with the caffeine and all?"

Ezra blew the steam off his cup.

"It's rather mild. It shouldn't bother me. But you should drink some water as well."

On cue, Beez plopped a water bottle in Crowley's lap. Come to think of it, he was parched. 

He started sucking on the cherry lollie and stared back at Ezra drinking his drink, feeling slightly smitten with the sight of a seemingly innocuous person, finishing their tea, preparing to dole out another round of pain. 

Crowley worked the lollipop around his mouth, holding his hands together, getting a gauzy feeling. Maybe it was the adrenaline.

"So uhm, Mr. Fell?" he asked as his teeth clattered around the candy.

Ezra was prepping the gun.

"Yes?"

"Uhhm,  _ What the hell can I say that doesn't sound weird... _ Thanks for uhmm, doing this. It means so much to me at this time.  _ Smooth, you idiot, that sounds like it was generated by a machine or something..." _

Ezra just smiled, still looking at the gun.

"It's my pleasure." He started leaning back into Crowley's shoulder.

Crowley didn't resist but chomped on the pop between his teeth.

"Ready?" Ezra asked as he grabbed Crowley's shoulder again.

Crowley felt more elevated and calm. He took off his glasses and nodded at Ezra. "Ready."

The gun buzzed mechanically in his hand, but Ezra was frozen gazing at Crowley's eyes for the first time, with an expression that at best could be described as intrigued. 

"You..." he breathlessly whispered, "Have lovely eyes. I mean, I don't see that color often."

Crowley chewed on the remaining pieces of candy. "Heh, thanks," he accepted with a small grin.

Beez exhaled loudly and shuffled away, glugging straight from the thermos.

Ezra gave his head a shake and a small smirk to himself with a look like a man who just found a four-leaf clover and couldn't believe his luck. He dove back into his work, and Crowley resisted jumping too hard this time.

____

More time passed, and Crowley calmly meditated through the waves of pain.  _ "It's making me sweat. Do I smell bad? Please don't let me smell bad. I took two showers. I'd hate to leave a bad impression on Ezra. He liked my eyes. Nobody likes my eyes like that. He really did." _ Crowley caught that Ezra would glance up briefly more than before.

  


"So, uhh," Crowley began. "I really did mean this tattoo was to be a sort of.... nkk... milestone for me."

  


"Uh-huh," Ezra acknowledged. "Personal?"

  


"Oh yes, you could say so," Crowley continued. "Some people just thought that a tattoo was beneath me."

  


Ezra grinning as he jabbed on. "No such thing. Tattoos are sophisticated and reveal something about ourselves. And they indicate confidence you are happy with a choice about yourself."

  


Despite the burning and jabbing, Crowley felt warmed.

  


"Definitely a time to move on. No regrets," Crowley added.

"He wasn't worth it."

  


Ezra made the briefest eye contact. "I confess, even though I won't share personal intricacies of clients, being an artist is akin to being a therapist sometimes. Some of them want to talk, some don't. But most have a personal story to go with their newfound expression." 

  


"Hmmm, I see," Crowley acknowledged, wondering if he had shared too many intricacies. 

  


"It can be, well, marks we choose, so to speak. It can say more about ourselves than we can say in words."

"Hmmm." Crowley pondered. "Well, I hope I chose a good mark, then."

Ezra removed his glasses and hung them on the apron front before switching off the gun.

"Done!" he announced.

Crowley felt victorious as he tried to get a look down his arm, which felt inflamed and possibly bleeding. Peering down cautiously, he was alarmed at how red it was around the work and throbbing like an oversized wasp sting. 

Ezra slapped some clear wrap on it as he resumed talking. "It will be very sore and tender for a bit. Please refrain from adding too much lotion or gel to it; it can spoil the tattoo. DO not be alarmed when you take the wrap off. It might not be pleasant, but that is normal."

  


Crowley stood up, desperately wanting to rub his battered arm but refrained.

_ "Oh gods this does sting and hurt..." _

He went to shake Ezra's hand and didn't want to let go, still high off having survived his first tattoo. Ezra didn't seem in a hurry to let go either, staring back. 

"I have you scheduled back in two weeks to see how you are doing," he said. " I hope it's everything you wanted."

Crowley grinned as he re-donned his sunglasses. 

"I hope it is as well."

_________________

  


The doorbell clanged merrily as Crowley strolled into the shop, thumbs hooked in the waistband of his jeans, craning to look around the shop.

To his surprise, he heard Warlock's petulant voice again.

"Yeah, well, if you can give that old bat a damn tattoo, why not me?!"

  


_ "Wow, he really doesn't quit!" _ Crowley laughed to himself.

  


"Warlock, I've told you before," Ezra scolded from behind the desk, crossly, "No language like that in my shop!"

  


"I can damn say what I damn want!" Warlock fumed, leaning on the counter as far as he could at Ezra. 

Crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes, Ezra cooly looked at the lad. 

"Well, with such profanities as that," Ezra coldly scoffed, "You just knocked several more years off actually getting one....."

  


"Dammit!"

"......And I am telling Nanny. She left me her number." Ezra had a triumphantly sinister look on his face. "I suggest you run back to her and say you are sorry for being so rude to that nice tattoo man or,-" Ezra leaned closer and hissed "-else."

  


Warlock slammed a fist on the desk as he spun around and began stomping off. 

"That's another year off, Warlock," Ezra warned. 

  


Crowley couldn't resist as Warlock barreled passed, grabbing his shoulder to stop him.

"And IF you slam that door, which I know you are just dying to do," he warned, "He'll get a restraining order against you, kid."

Warlock glanced back at Ezra, who gave a cheeky nod affirming 'yes.'

The boy growled, fisted his hands, and resumed his march to the door, which he closed gingerly behind him.

Ezra had his head bent forward and a hand to it, somewhere between wincing and laughing. 

Crowley grinned as he sauntered up.

"He IS persistent!" he chortled. 

"Oh, it gets funnier," Ezra laughed, looking upward eagerly. "He  _ did _ bring his Nanny;" he informed with a dramatic pause. 

"But she wanted, and did GET, her own tattoo."

Crowley stifled a laugh. "Seriously? I mean...."

Ezra was pink from laughter. 

"Well, I can't discuss other clients." Ezra cheekily spilled. "But let's say she thought I was a very nice young man, was rather upset I was still single, and..." Ezra was starting to giggle so hard he closed his eyes; "She gave me her phone number and said if I ever needed to talk..." Ezra covered his mouth, and Crowley joined in laughing. 

  


"Damn," Crowley teased. "Seems your dance card is too busy for me, just when I thought I had a chance!" 

They both let out another burst of laughter.

Ezra stood up as they pulled themselves together quickly. 

"Well, then, Anthony, good to see you again, so let's see how you are doing."

Crowley was already pulling at his jacket, looking cooly satisfied as Ezra circled around. He bared the shoulder with a little grin.

Ezra examined it over and seemed pleased. 

"Looks perfect. The colors look vibrant. The healing looks quite normal. How do you like it?"

"Love it!" Crowley beamed. "It's even neater than I thought it would be." 

"And, " Ezra remembered, "It said on your notes you... wanted to talk about another tattoo?" 

Crowley put on a confident face. 

"That's right."

"I should have warned you, " taunted Ezra, "Once you get one, you have to get another. It's an addiction."

Ezra gave a mischievous smile that made Crowley want to tell him everything. Crowley took off his glasses and smiled back before realizing Ezra was looking less playful and more captivated.

  


"Uhh, it sure is," he began as he pulled up his phone and flipped up an image. "I want this one next."

  


Ezra looked at the image and nodded in approval. 

"Clean, simple line art, very easy but powerful. I wouldn't have pegged you for the unicorn type, but in my line of business, you can never guess what a person will ask for. It's always a surprise."

"Very personal," Crowley confided.

"Ah, where would you want this personal piece?"

"Here!" Crowley gestured with his free hand above his right hip.

"Like, right at the ribs down here to my waist? "

Ezra looked bright, but concern flicked over his eyes.

"A fine place, but the ribs are a sensitive area."

  


Crowley snorted. "Bah, I handled the last one well enough. You said this was simple, so less stabbing. "

Ezra pursed his lips a little. 

"Well, I won't argue with your choice; it's yours. But I will repeat it; it's a thin padded area compared to others. And you, if I may say, don't appear to have much padding on your body."

Crowley snapped his eyes back at Ezra, who looked frank.

"Well, I really want it there," he muttered.

Ezra agreed. 

"Very well, then. I have a perfect slot open next Tuesday, at 9:00, if you would like? That's tomorrow. "

  


"Perfect!" Crowley grinned, putting his glasses back on.

"I'll send you the details again and be there right on time!"

  


Ezra smiled back. 

"Do follow the rules...."

  


"Yeah, don't eat after midnight, or I might turn into a Gremlin, right?" Crowley jeered.

  


Ezra looked momentarily startled, which made Crowley entertained. 

"Uuh, yes, that would be a problem. So, until then, please take care of yourself, and I can't wait to see you then."

  


They shook hands.

"Will do," Crowley promised sincerely. "And you'll get to see a whole lot more of me."

  


They paused mid shake, and Crowley went rigid. Ezra looked captivated and responded with a blink of his azure eyes.

Beez clattering obviously and loudly with something somewhere in the shop.

_ "OH FUCK, that just.... came... out.... sort of wrong... but." _

He pulled his hand back and started for the door.

"Uhh, see you Tuesday!" he rushed as he bounded out the door.

___

Crowley paced his flat, sprawled on the couch, and tried flipping through the channels again for something distracting on the television. He languidly reached over to the coffee table, grabbed the half-empty shot glass, and belted it back. He rolled from his prone position to his back, staring at the dancing illuminations from the tv on the ceiling.

_ "Wow, Tony, you really are acting like a simpering school girl and reading in too deep. I mean, jeezus, he's a damn tattoo artist. He's probably seen every inch of every type there is. Why the heck are you making this so weird? He's just nice, that's his job. He just gets to play emotional therapist to all the sappy morons breaking up and getting a pity-me-tattoo. " _

He searched for the bottle sitting on the ground without even looking down and pulled it up.

_ "Like you." _

He refilled his glass and gulped that down.

_ "I should take a shower. And eat something." _

_ _________________________________ _

The next day, 9:15 in the morning, the sound of tires screamed and halted in front of the fell's Corner. Within seconds, Crowley hurried in, already apologizing before he made it to the counter.

"Sorry! So Sorry!" Crowley rushed. "Traffic was a mess, I tell you."

  


Ezra looked up from the counter as he was writing something.

"Well, luckily, it's a quiet morning, and you're not  _ that _ late and..." he paused and jerked his head back.

"Are you alright?"

  


"Yep! Fine!" Crowley smirked. "Can't hardly wait for you to torture me!"

Ezra looked even more concerned. 

"You look a little disheveled. Did you sleep fine?"

"Oh, well, uh," Crowley stumbled, "Actually, a little rough. Must have been excited for today."

  


"No doubt," Ezra said, not sounding convinced.

  


"So, anyhow, I'm here! And quite ready."

  


"Well then, Beez will show you back to the booth a prep you."

  


"Sounds like fun!" Crowley said with too much enthusiasm. 

______

Crowley reclined on the seat, getting comfortable.

He rolled up his shirt some, then thought he looked moronic with it wadded up. 

_ "And it stinks! I slept in it! Oh Christ..." _

He was caught off guard at a buzzing noise as Beez turned on an electric shaver.

"I'm not getting a haircut!" he yelped.

Beez looked at him sarcastically. 

"Uhhm, I'm shaving the area you are getting the work done. Not that you are really hairy, but it helps. And, uh, you'll have to loosen your belt a little, pleaze."

Crowley suddenly panicked at the fact he had just worn his skinny jeans and a belt. He had been planning on something looser and more accomodating. Now he'd be forced to strip down more than he intended.

"Right," he smirked as he unbuckled his belt and scooted the side of his jeans down just a little. 

Beez moved in for the task, the shaver buzzing like a menacing oversizing insect. They let out a cough and tossed a towel unceremoniously onto Crowley's lap. 

Crowley snatched it up and folded it over the back of his neck.

"Thanks," he muttered.

  


Beez rolled their eyes. 

"It's too cover your front more if you desire. You need to pull your jeans down a little more. That's not enough for what you requested."

Crowley swallowed and pulled his jeans and briefs down a little more. He really wasn't exposed but guessed a cover would make him feel possibly less exposed.

When the shaver touched his side, he couldn't refrain from the full-body twitch he gave. Beez was unfazed. Crowley felt unwell.

  


_ "I feel so goddam green off last night, and that feels..... almost tickling. Holy gods, is this tickling me? I'm not enjoying this..." _

  


Equally shocking was when Beez cleaned the area.

  


_ "Ahhhh, oh god, so cold, so weird.... ohhh jeez, I never thought that it was so sensitive. Like all sensations are going sideways to my spine...." _

Ezra gave Crowley an encouraging glance as he scooted close. 

  


"Let me know if I make you too uncomfortable," he said as he hefted gun. "I might have to lean in on you."

Crowley hid behind his glasses, mostly to cut back on the splitting headache being fanned by the spotlights above. 

"Well, uh, enjoy yourself," he tittered. "That's more action than I've had in months."

Calmly Ezra positioned himself and gave one final glance.

"Ready?"

__________________________

Despite what he told Erza and had been telling himself, Crowley was not ready.

The first tattoo was a physical punishing pain.

This had a new sensation of soul splitting ache. 

Inside his body, emanating from his back, roiling from his stomach, jolting along his ribs. The ticklish sensation his abdomen would get from contact before seemed to be whiplashed away and turned into stinging. He was doing everything he could to hold himself still and not jerk his legs up like a bug. He clutched onto the chair and arched the side out inflexibly. He was sucking in each breath with a hiss, and exhaling with a growl. 

Ezra kept moving briskly along, asking how he was holding up.

All Crowley could do was give sharp one-word replies.

Fine. Great. Ducky. Terrific. 

He offered no conversation, and Crowley wasn't sure if he wanted to talk, or the silence was better as he was trying to recall past the pain. 

_ "I want this; it's all I wanted for years. But people said I was too old for it. It was beneath me. You said it showed how cheap and shallow I could be." _

He closed his eyes and bared his teeth. 

_ "That I wouldn't be yours if I did such a tacky thing. So tacky and cheap for a person at my job. Did you only like me because of my work, the wealth, and being able to go places? Look so smart as your trophy?" _

  


Crowley was wincing so hard he made himself dizzy.

"To hell with you!" he hissed between his teeth, clutching harder.

"It's my life, and not yours! You don't have to tell me what I want anymore! Unnnk," He was starting to feel faint. Sound and light were blurring together as a general sensation behind his eyes. Oh god, the scraping tearing pain. 

He realizes Ezra had stopped and opened his eyes to see his worried face as he held the gun upright.

"Do you need a break, Anthony?" he gently asked.

Crowley twitched his nostrils. "I'm fine. Please keep going."

Ezra gave a small, empathetic sigh. Still staring at Crowley's eyes, he reached out his free gloved hand and gave Crowley's nearest hand a squeeze. Crowley was happy his glasses were on because he was afraid tears might start welling up.

"Remember how I sometimes said the marks we choose to bring out something about us?" Ezra gently offered. 

Crowley gazed back, feeling mildly exposed in every sense, lying prostrate on the chair, half-naked, at the mercy of another person's castigations. He knotted his brows. 

"Yeah, well... I suppose they do. It's like showing yourself..."

"It's the confidence to show something about yourself, I think," Ezra smoothed over. "Not easy, maybe even painful. But in the end, you know yourself better." He gave the most supportive grin yet, and Crowley felt modest. 

They stared at each other, and Crowley was afraid to say anything. Ezra broke the moment properly by withdrawing his hand, reaching in his apron pocket, and pulling out a lollipop. Crowley rolled his eyes in amusement but still took the candy.

"Ready," he announced as he began sucking on the pop. "Let's finish this absolution then." 

Ezra leaned back in and resumed. 

" _ Oh fuck this hurts...." _

________

Crowley felt fragile. Battered. Stripped. 

But it was over. That was all that mattered. 

_ "Like my whole side was raked open by a savage animal. It hurts to breathe."  _

Ezra was slapping the wrap on his side, which at once felt horrendous but also felt closing and comforting.

Ezra held out Crowley's jacket

"Just give yourself plenty of time, Crowley," he was instructing. "And please, if you need anything, just send me a message."

  


Crowley was clutching himself gingerly. Ezra wasn't giving him his expected beaming smile but instead wore a countenance of empathy.

Crowley had shrugged on his jacket and looked at the floor.

"I'd ask for a hug, but I'm slightly sore."

Ezra inhaled and looked thoughtful. 

"Hmmm, how would this be then?" He held out a hand, and Crowley looked over his glasses at it. It was evident from Ezra's startled eyebrow reaction he caught how bloodshot Crowley's eyes were. 

He slipped his hand into Crowley's, grasped it firmly, and pulled himself against him slightly, wrapping his other arm around Crowley's shoulder. Just a quick embrace, nothing too intimate or intruding.

Crowley felt relieved despite his very nature recoiling at the thought of appearing vulnerable.

" _ But hey, you already laid bare your soul today, didn't you?" _

Ezra pulled away but held Crowley's shoulder, locking eyes.

"Take care of yourself," he instructed firmly. "Please. I'll see you in two weeks, but don't hesitate to call me before then if you need to talk."

_________________

Crowley opened the door with none of his natural swagger this time.

It barely rang the bell. He slid in like a man late for church service, though he was right on time. No one was at the desk and then he heard voices from the nearest booth. Like clockwork, he could recognize Warlock's voice. A moment later he heard the running of younger feet padding his way. Young Mr. Dowling was tromping to the door, looking elated, and very much covered in tattoos.

Crowley's mind spun that an 11-year-old was covered head to toe in gaudy, loud, super-hero and dragon tattoos, when it was obvious; they were all temporary kid tattoos, and Warlock was covered on every visible part of his body with them. Including his cheeks and forehead. 

"Uhh, looking good, Warlock," Crowley complimented as he dashed by. 

"Thanks!" Warlock gushed as he reached the door. "Just wait until Nanny sees me!"

Ezra came around the corner, looking bemused. Crowley gave him a questioning grin, and Ezra shook his head looking upward.

"All temporary, of course," he confirmed. "But I think he said he was going to a family gathering photo session this afternoon."

Crowley gaped and snickered.

"And you DID it for him?"

Ezra sighed, moving to the desk.

"His Nanny called," he validated, "and told me to please do the deed."

Ezra sat and gave an exaggeratedly defeated expression.

Crowley was speechless, but so amused it made him feel instantly better.

"Well, anyhow," Ezra waved off. "You said in your last email you were doing fine? Recovered, okay?"

"Yep, " Crowley humbly replied, removing his glasses and leaning up to the counter. He began pulling up his shirt.

"If you'd like privacy back in the booth..." Ezra began. 

"Nah," Crowley brushed off. "World needs to see it anyway."

Ezra leaned in and smiled.

"It does look good."

"Yeah!" Crowley simpered, "I'm thinking of filling it in with, like Celtic knots and spirals one day. Making it even cooler."

Ezra grinned up and leaned back to grab his notepad.

"Annnd, you are ready for your next tattoo then?"

Crowley took off his glasses and crossed his arms.

"Sure," he pleasantly replied. "See what I reveal today."

Ezra blinked thoughtfully over his spectacles.

"I'm glad you feel this way, Anthony," he commended. 

Crowley scoffed, with his hands in his pockets, but didn't want to be rude. 

"Eh, well, it gets easier each time, you know?  _ Wait, did that sound dirty? Jeez... _ "

"Well, I'm also happy you did reach out after your last session and email me to talk."

Crowley felt a flutter in his chest, at once wishing Ezra hadn't mentioned that yet elated that he had.

After he had gotten back after his last tattoo, Crowley threw himself on his sofa, bawled a little while drinking more from the bottle he had left from the previous night, before passing out and not waking until the next day.

If he thought he felt bad before, he reached a new circle in his personal hell at that point. Physically and emotionally.

The daylight was trying to seer with a few cruel spikes around the curtains drawn over the door length windows at the end of his living room. The room was unlit, and Crowley's bloodshot brain didn't dare turn on any lights. He cowered in the darkness, overhung, and suffering.  _ "The breakup was bad, but why does it feel worse now?" _

  


Everything came to a head when he checked his phone and saw a worried reply to his previous email from Ezra.

**_Sender_ ** _ ; Fellstattoocorner.com _

**_Subject_ ** _ ; Re; How are you holding up? _

_ _____________________________ _

_ Hello Crowley, just checking on you. You looked a bit peaked and seemed a bit more emotional. If there's anything you need to talk about, please don't hesitate.  _

  


He didn't hesitate. He finished off the bottle and jabbed out a long reply. 

Everything. 

He hit send and curled back up tight on the sofa.

_____________________________

The gun hummed on, and Crowley's leg twitched again. But he sat firm as Ezra bent over his wrist. 

Ezra leaned up for more ink, and Crowley seemed relaxed. 

"It's really lovely," Ezra complimented. 

"I mean, I've done my share of roses and flowers. But it's a wonderful design."

Crowley glanced down at the stylized flower, blooming on the back of his right wrist.

"It's an Art Nouveau design," Crowley informed. "I wanted something... stylish. But I do love plants and flowers."

"I do too!" Ezra added to no surprise. He then pulled the hem of his right glove back a bit. 

"See? Edelweiss is my favourite!"

Crowley was surprised to see a star-like flower also growing on Ezra's wrist amid the swirl of spiral and other shapes.

Crowley swallowed.

_ "Same wrist, same spot, same size, both of us have flowers. Huh." _

"It's, uh, gorgeous. And suits you."

Ezra couldn't wipe a grin off his face, even as he resumed working.

Crowley now was taking advantage of the view of all the markings on Ezra's arms.

"So, uh, " Crowley broached in the metallic silence , "You... like stained glass?" He didn't stop staring at Ezra's arms.

"Oh yes, I do!" Ezra confirmed, moving along his task. "Artworks in and of themselves. Cathedrals are like a full living body to me. If the body was a temple, which some people say it is. The endless sandstone structures, the buttresses like ribs, the worshippers inside like a beating heart..." 

Ezra dipped for more ink.

"...And the stained glass like a tattoo, letting an already interesting body tell a story. The windows themselves let in light through the prisms of colors,-" He paused thoughtfully looking inward towards his mental windows "-perhaps a tattoo is something of a reverse? Letting shapes and colors show something in to shine outwards?"

Ezra blinked hard and shook his head slightly as if to chase some dust away.

"Well, now that you put it that way," Crowley chuckled shyly. 

"Plus," Ezra added as if it were the most important point, "It's the best cover for old regrettable tattoos!" 

He beamed at Crowley like he was prescribing a miracle tonic .

  


"What? Regrettable? You?" Crowley scoffed. "You are an artist... don't you... know what you like?"

Ezra shut off the gun for a moment , closed his eyes, reopening them calmly. 

"Well, we all are young once. We all are certain of things and then change. Or perhaps," he raised a hand, "Maybe we do change, for the better."

Crowley sighed. "I suppose."

"Let me show you something," Ezra offered, turning slightly sideways. He pulled back his apron and pulled his shirt from his jeans.

Crowley shifted on the chair.

  


"Relax," Ezra assured him, "It's just a tramp stamp. You probably have seen one before."

  


Though he couldn't see all of it, Crowley got the jist.

Across Ezra's lower back was a blaring cheap looking tattoo.

Skulls, flames, some tacky phrase scrolled through it. It was fading, stretched, and time worn, but still there.

  


"Uhhh, well, it's"

  


"Horrible, Ezra confirmed, "Simply horrible." 

  


"I agree," Beez hissed nonchalantly as they buzzed by.

  


He tucked in his shirt. 

"But it was the most wonderful, glorious, liberating idea at that moment and time." Ezra reshifted on the seat . "For a week. But, despite having no real feeling for my first tattoo, I just keep it."

  


"Why?" 

  


Ezra was resolute.

  


"Because.... it's who I WAS. It doesn't define me anymore, but I see it and remember the silly youth I was and how it was my world at that time. Not so much anymore."

Ezra picked back up the gun.

  


"Well, why not... cover it up like your arms? You said you covered those up, right?"

  


Ezra almost looked coyly at Crowley as he turned back on the gun.

  


"Maybe I don't mind reminders that I have grown as a person. Time leaves indelible marks. So do events. So do people."

He resumed work, but Crowley hardly flinched as much.

_____________________________________

Crowley was mildly disappointed he didn't see Warlock when he returned two weeks later.

He was looking around the shop when Ezra's voice filled in the blanks.

"He's off on some business trip with his parents."

Ezra appeared, holding a cup of tea.

  


"Damn," Crowley cursed. "I was looking forward to his shenanigans."

  


"Mmm," Ezra appended, sipping from his cup, "Well, his Nanny is coming by tomorrow for another tattoo of her own..."

  


"I don't want to know!" Crowley grinned, swiping a hand flatly.

  


Ezra nodded, pantomiming terror. "You really don't."

  


They both snickered as quietly as they could.

  


"Anyhow, " Ezra said, putting his cup down, "Before your 9:00. I thought you wanted to see the sketches for your custom tattoo."

  


Ezra moved to the front desk, reached under, and pulled out some papers.

Crowley started leafing through them. "Nice. You drew these?"

"Well, I did take art classes and studied to be an architect," Ezra shrugged.

"Nice work. I like this one."

Crowley pulled out a specific page and put it on the top of the stack.

Ezra pulled it up up the page, turned his mouth to the side and he knuckled up his free hand and pressed his cheek into it while leaning on the desk.

Crowley thought maybe he was displeased with that particular one.

"I mean, I like it personally," Crowley said. "I think the feathers look best and done in black they'll really look snazzy."

"Oh I agree," Ezra replied in a tone that said he wasn't questioning Crowley. He let the paper drift to the desk and leaned up.

"It's just..." Ezra untied his apron, "...Of all those wing sketches..."

He pulled the apron over his head and set it on the counter.

"...that was the last one I worked at. Ha, I just..."

He was unbuttoning his collar to his work shirt. 

Crowley was lost.

"...Did the others, thinking so hard on the design and then said to myself...."

"Uhhh..." Crowley cut in, worrying things were about to get weird.

"Relax, Crowley, I'm not stripping," Ezra chided, loosening a few more front buttons, "I said to myself, hmmm, why not also copy your wings as well? Maybe he's looking for something similar."

As Ezra finished, he pulled down part of his shirt to reveal the back of one shoulder, which he turned to Crowley.

Crowley was shocked to see...

"Wings? Wait? You got a set of wings already?"

"I did it!" Ezra confirmed.

Crowley smirked internally.

"They... I mean.... well, that's impressive, they cover your whole back. But yours are white."

Ezra smiled as he buttoned back up.

"My favourite tattoo, and a very personal one."

"What's it about? You had a break up too or something?" Crowley goaded playfully.

Ezra grabbed up his apron, looking thoughtful, maybe wanting to share, maybe it was something still too personal. He stood up as he tied it back on, and his eyes met Crowley's.

Crowley saw behind the gentle sparkling blue of his eyes like the sun on the waves was a tragedy, loss, heartache, and a whole story waiting to be told. Ezra just scrunched up the corners around his eyes and smiled. 

"Maybe I just... found my wings?" He winked. "You'll get yours over the next few months."

"And they'll be black!" Crowley reminded him, smiling back.

"I wouldn't expect anything else. Now let's get your face on."

________________________________________________

Another tear streaked down Crowley's cheek as he kept wincing.

  


Perhaps this was the worst yet, but Crowley didn't care.

  


_ "Like I'm heading toward some light. It'll be done and over soon enough. It isn't about the pain anymore, even though it still hurts." _

The buzzing of the damn gun next to his ear was just as maddening. So was the thrumming and hammering. So was pressing the other side of his face against a cushion and enduring the strange angle Ezra had to press to keep steady and working.

Beez kept hovering nearby with a look like they were afraid it would all go wrong at any moment. 

___________________

"Done for today, trooper," Ezra announced, shutting off the gun. 

Crowley grimaced which sent him back through a loop of making the side of his face hurt more and grimacing more off the sensation.

Crowley stood up after the wrap was gently applied, glancing in one of the mirrors.

The little dark snake was now wiggling up the side of his face along his jawline.

  


_ "Gah, it's going to make that side of my face swell? I'll look so grotesque for a few days.. But it looks so damn wicked." _

  


"This one," Ezra was explaining as Crowley glanced at his reflection, "Might need some touching up for clarity. But being small, that's not such a problem."

  


"Nah," Crowley agreed. "Not a problem. Worth it." 

  


"Stop... touching.... it," Ezra scolded.

  


Crowley grinned and turned to face Ezra as he grabbed his coat from Beez.

  


"Does it.... look good?"

  


"It's definitely YOU," Beez injected with a leer, walking away.

  


Crowley glowed a little, trying not to smirk.

Ezra looked bemused and cocked his head a little as he considered his answer.

  


"I'd say it looks bold and excellent. It's just small enough to not be brash, but so hard to miss that the statement it makes can't be missed."

  


"What statement does it make?" Crowley teased, tugging on his jacket.

  


Ezra took the challenge, crossing his arms.

  


"That you know who you are and what you need to say."

  


Crowley hoped the blushing wouldn't be easily seen.

  


"Well, thanks again, Ezra. I'll be seeing you shortly, and we can... uh.."

"Begin to take flight?" he offered.

Crowley tried to suppress a smile and refrained putting his glasses on for another moment.

  


"Yeah. Thanks again. I'd offer you could kiss this better before I go, but that would be kind of stupid."

  


Ezra narrowed his eyes shrewdly.

  


"Your face has another side, though, doesn't it?"

  


Beez let out a rather loud sigh and strolled off.

  


Every sound in the world disappeared for Crowley as his adrenaline-soaked mind tumbled over those words.

  


"Yeaahh... it does."

  


Ezra raised his brows in question.

Crowley thrust his hands in his pockets and bashfully lowered his face a little in assent. He blinked as his answer. 

" _ Go ahead, I won't stop you..." _

  


Ezra took one step forward, raising his decorated arms and carefully placing them behind Crowley's head, drawing forth to kiss the other untouched side of his face.

Crowley felt weightless as he reached to put his hands on Ezra's shoulders. His gaze met Ezra's inquiring eyes and could barely stifle a grin as he pulled Ezra closer.

  


"You know," he said, "There's more to my face than that."

  


**Author's Note:**

> Yes, there are tons of tattoo fics, not copying anyone, including some very famous fics.
> 
> Forgive some of the 'well, there are more protocol and steps for an actual tattoo..." Just go with if for the sake of this story. 
> 
> I actually have a partially done version flipping the characters in their roles I plan on posting when I get done. ;)


End file.
